


perfecting performances

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, D/s, Exhibitionism, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a fairly ordinary Tuesday evening in the Bane-Belcourt townhouse. Beyond scandalous if a mundane were to appear in Magnus's library, though certainly rather tame for any of their friends who had tripped into their scenes accidentally before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	perfecting performances

**Author's Note:**

> for [this](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83265.html?thread=1007425#t1007425) prompt at the ficathon

It's a fairly ordinary Tuesday evening in the Bane-Belcourt townhouse. Beyond scandalous if a mundane were to appear in Magnus's library, though certainly rather tame for any of their friends who had tripped into their scenes accidentally before. (Magnus still maintains that the seelie wasn't accidental about anything, and Camille ignored it, didn't care about anything that night besides how Magnus looked and felt around her magical strap-on.) 

Tonight she was too impatient to wait for him to be done with his endless tomes, was determined to ride his cock right there in the middle of the library. It might be empty beyond books, but it still feels like putting on a show and both of them always enjoyed perfecting their performances. So Camille fucks him slowly, toys with the idea of counting each of his books before allowing him to orgasm. 

Magnus snaps his fingers then, changing her mind as an ornate mirror appears floating across from them, reflecting pure decadence. 

“ _Magnus_ ,” Camille moans, unable to look away. His hands paw at her hips, but she only rides him slower, rocking in his lap. 

“You feel so good,” she says, bringing a hand up to scratch at the base of his neck and weave into his hair. He groans, and his lips fall to her shoulder, small wet kisses as his dark eyes glitter at her through the mirror. 

“You're positively demonic darling,” Magnus says, and she clenches around him, making his breath catch. 

She laughs softly, and drags one of his hands up to cup her breast. Her nipple slips through his fingers as he squeezes, and she rides him a tiny bit faster for that, pleased. 

“We look perfect,” Camille says, an indulgent grin on her lips. 

Magnus squeezes harder with a touch of magic, and brings his other hand from her hip to the top of her vulva, middle finger stroking her clit. 

“You always look perfect,” he murmurs, and Camille shivers delightfully against him, runs her nails up the insides of his thighs. 

“Tell me more.” 

Magnus's face turns into her neck, his lips on her pulse point as another wave of heat washes through her and she bucks her hips. 

“I could watch you forever,” he says, and Camille's fangs drop into her lip making Magnus stop, meeting her gaze through the mirror with a smirk. 

“More,” Camille breathes.

“As could you,” Magnus says, and Camille's nails dip down to dig into his legs briefly, ten shallow punctures making him hiss. 

Camille brings her bloody nails up with a teasing smile, licking each clean individually. 

He laughs breathlessly, hooking his chin over her shoulder. “My goddess of the night,” he names her, and Camille likes this one, spins around so she's straddling him face to face, sinking back down on his cock and staying still. 

Magnus looks up at her, hopeful and reverent, just as a good believer would, and she loops her arms around his neck. “Good boy,” she says, dotting kisses down his jawline. 

“Now, don't move or make a sound.” 

His fingers tense at her hips, and her teeth sink into his neck, her lips sucking hard to make sure not a drop escapes. Magnus doesn't move, though his heart speeds up and she sinks into his flavor, vaguely aware of her body undulating against him. She orgasms as she swallows, clenching rapidly, and still he remains immobile, pleasing her immensely.

Magnus tastes like no other warlock she's ever drank from, the only person worth comparing to angelic blood. He tastes like ancient power and wisdom, lost languages and forgotten memories, all with a splash of everlasting youthful freshness. She imagines if there is indeed a god or two, they would taste like him. 

Camille pulls off when she hears his pulse slow, licking the wound one last time before placing her hands on his chest. 

“You may move,” she says, and Magnus is thrusting up into her without wasting a second, fingers shifting up to tickle her waist. 

“You're all consuming,” Magnus says against her lips, and Camille parts hers for a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue. She moves her hips faster, far faster than earlier with her enhanced speed, riding him until he's spilling inside her, moans spilling into her mouth. 

“Mmm,” she says happily, curling up into his chest and not bothering to move. “You can take my strength now.” 

And Magnus does, his bright cat eyes trapping her in place as he pulls the energy he needs to heal himself. He extracts gently, in thin streams of magic, and Camille adores how very adored she feels.


End file.
